How time flies.
Hard to believe it’s been 30 years since that terrible night in New York City when a madman killed John Lennon for… well, no real reason other than his own madness (various highly dubious conspiracy theories notwithstanding). I had made plans to drop in on my old high school the following day, and when there, ran into a friend who was also a Beatles fan—he was completely dressed in black, in mourning.
I think maybe that’s the wrong way to commemorate Lennon, though. I think I plan instead to smile a little more at strangers today.
Anyway, I’ve made a return to one of the first places I worked for in Columbus; I got placed at Franklin County Children Services (on my birthday, no less), where I had been working when I got married back in ’93. Different division, though. Temp placement, no idea how long it’s going to last.
It’s mainly an exercise in typing without comprehension. Partly it’s because I’m not a caseworker and it’s none of my business, mostly it’s because I really don’t want to know.
The mental procedure is disturbingly similar to what Orwell described in the appendix to Nineteen Eighty Four as ‘crimestop’ (or more prosaically as ‘protective stupidity’). The material is dealt with only and exactly as long as it takes to transfer the letters comprising the words to the correct part of the screen, and then they just unexist. Sitting here right now, I could not tell you any of the names that came across my screen last night (with the exception of one unusual first name–but the last name is completely lost to me), or more importantly, any of the allegations made.
Who’d’ve thought creeping senility could be a job skill?